Hours after my post from earlier today on the subject of yet another move for my parents to a new care facility, I've lost myself in thoughts of their prior moves. I found my posts from Move #3 and Move #2 in the archives of my blog. There are commonalities throughout; moving is upheaval and we struggle so desperately to find them a real home.
Home, that most special place where their needs are met and they feel safe, where they can relax and let go, where they have space that is all their own (even if small, spartan), where precious mementos and memories of happy days and times keep company and dance with the present, unfolding moments which become the rest of their days, the rest of their lives.
Isn't this what we all want when we go to that place we call home?